


Leaving Traces of Blood (On Your Gravestone)

by FlameBlownWhiter, nitpickyabouttrains



Category: Infernal Devices Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Angst, Blood, First Kiss, First Time, I swear there is a mostly happy ending, M/M, Slash, but we don't ignore Tessa, cannon character death, gravestones, off screen het, something about shadows, their love is the best, who is awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-30
Updated: 2013-05-30
Packaged: 2017-12-13 11:03:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 15,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/823575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlameBlownWhiter/pseuds/FlameBlownWhiter, https://archiveofourown.org/users/nitpickyabouttrains/pseuds/nitpickyabouttrains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will and Jem always find a way to each other.</p><p>Takes place after the events of Clockwork Princess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Leaving Traces of Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to our awesome Beta's - [angelheadedhipster](http://archiveofourown.org/users/angelheadedhipster/pseuds/angelheadedhipster) and Megan! Couldn't have done this without you! Any of the errors still found are our fault not thiers. This part is very short - but the entire fic is a little over 15,000 words. This is our first fic in this universe! I loved playing in Cassie's sandbox- hopefully we treated her characters well and with respect. Comments are love! Enjoy.
> 
> PS. Advanced warning now - I am not good at summaries. So my apologies for that.

Pain flooded Will's senses. The needling electric sensation in his spine made it hard to breathe, hard to think, and hard to stand. He couldn't see the damage this time - the demon's stinger had landed between his shoulder blades. He was lucky not to be paralyzed, but it was a close call.

Will's vision swam and he lost footing, his boot slipping on the damp peat of the London graveyard, and landed bent over a gravestone. Standing, Will couldn't see who it had belonged to - it was long eroded past recognition, but he apologized under his breathe. You never knew who was still hanging around.

He needed to move quickly to the mausoleum. He needed to get to Jem. Jem - he knew - could help him. He'd be furious, Will thought, this was anything but a superficial wound.

Mud slid from under him, his left foot fell away, and Will tipped sideways. He fell unconscious as he head hit the side of the Mag's grave. She'd be cross with him, he decided, for getting blood on her tombstone - that is if he ever woke up.


	2. The Silent City - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jem finds out what Will has done.

When Jem had been, well _Jem_ , he had often thought he and Will had a special bond. Beyond just those are other parabatai, even. He had always felt that they were linked, that they were of one soul. Just as the poison drug running through his own blood seemed to darken Will’s life,  anything that could have taken away his brother have shaded him.

Actually, it had been a blessing that Jem had never had to test this theory. Of all the stupid things Will did, and there were many, nothing had yet landed him directly at death’s gates. And when he had been living, really and truly living, he had been so thankful; because if something had happened to Will, he would have followed the dark-haired boy without a thought. If somehow his own sacrifice or pleading could have helped, Jem would have done so. Even if it had meant trading their places. After all, for Jem it would always have only been dying a little sooner.

These were the thoughts that were running through his mind while he swept. It was part of his training as a Silent Brother, to help keep the Silent City well ordered. Something about the continuous motion, the futility of constantly cleaning what was made only of dirt, was supposed to teach him a lesson.

But Jem was already patient. He had been waiting for what felt like most of his life. He had been waiting to die.

Now, however, Jem was finding his well-practiced patience tried. Moments before, a ghost from the cemetery had brought down word that there was an injured man bleeding above. A Shadowhunter, they were told. Brother Enoch had gone to retrieve the poor fool unfortunate to make it only to the mouth of his salvation and not all the way in. Who knew how long the inhabitants of the graveyard had spent bickering and playing before eventually bringing the information into the city. For all they knew, the man could be dead.

The news of the bleeding man struck a strange cord in Jem’s very being. He did not know who it could be, there had been no description, but Jem felt something, something wrong. There was a growing pit of dread pooling in his stomach.

Even though he was not supposed to be anywhere near the infirmary, Jem snuck in to see the man being brought in. All it took was one glimpse. Jem’s eye caught a flash of familiar jet black hair and he knew.

It was Will.  

Jem, Brother Zachariah, wasn't allowed in the infirmary - but there were certain _exceptions_ that had been made for him and his parabatai. Not even the City of Bones could keep them apart it seemed, though they tried. They tried and tried and William just kept showing up on their door step - complaining of anything, a splinter, a stubbed toe, anything to see James. They tried to send him away, but they had never seen a determined Herondale - nothing can stop them.

It wasn't Will whom they needed to stop this time. Though Zachariah now moved more like a silent brother - that gentle hover, that careful slink towards a thing that was both calculating and frightening - he moved with urgency to the side of the bed. Brother Torias was there, demanding he leave loudly in his head.

_This is not your place Zachariah. Go back to your duties, you obviously need more training. He is no longer -_

"I know what he is no longer, Brother! But he came here for me and I will be here when he wakes."

 _Brother Enoch will hear of this._ The sweeping of his robes as he leaned over Will and Will's ragged torn breathing were all the sound that filled the room. Jem feared that breaking the silence would cause Will to stop breathing - so he dared not. He kneeled, brushing the hair off of Will's face, changed the bandages as Brother Torias ordered ( _You might as well be useful),_ and waited as Torias did what he could to heal Will's poisoned body.

Maybe James did need to learn some patience. Waiting for Will to wake up, watching his pale bruised chest rise and fall, the sweat on his brow causing his black hair to stick to the infirmary sheets, was torture. He suddenly did not envy Will all those years at his bedside. Jem sent a prayer to the Angel - it was all he could do now.


	3. The Silent City - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will wakes up.

Will dreams –

 

_The forest is dense and dark, not because it is night but because the foliage obscures the sun completely, blotting it out. The trees are sharp, sharper than most naturally are, as if the leaves are made of broken glass. With every step, Will can feel the branches cutting at him, tearing at his clothes, as if they are reaching out onto the path he walks specifically to stop him from going forward._

_Will marches onward, walking straight and true. There is something he is supposed to be finding, he thinks. There is a reason he is here. But Will cannot recall what it is that is forcing him forward. Only a voice inside his head, which is telling him he must go on._

_Everything around Will is hidden in shadows, but for the very next step he must take on his path. One spot of light, ever changing in its location, as he places his foot forward.  It occurs to Will suddenly, that this brightness must be coming from someplace. He looks to his left and is startled to find that he is not alone, as he had thought. Before there had been nothing but trees all around him. But now, standing just to his side is Jem, holding a lantern._

_The Jem standing next to Will is not the boy he grew up with. The Jem Will knew had white- blond hair and silver eyes from the demon poison, but not this Jem. This one has hair as black as his own and dark brown eyes. The man to his side is an older looking Jem, one who was the same age as Will himself, an age it would take Brother Zachariah hundreds of years to reach. And he is healthy._

_From the lantern, a hazy dim light shone onto the two men together, the rest of the world around them dark and unable to penetrate into their illumination._

_“Am I dead?” Will asked this Not-Jem_

_Not-Jem shook his head once, softly, “No, you are yet among the living.”_

_But Will was not convinced, “Where are we then? What are you doing in my dream?” For it had to be a dream, Will had realized, for Jem to be with him._

_“You need help,” Not-Jem shrugged as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. As if there were no other reason he could be there, “And I have been here before. I know the way out.”_

_“Will you show me?” Will asked, peering past the light, farther into the dark wood_

_“Of course,” The unreal man agreed with a faintly Jem-like smile. “But the way will not be easy.”_

_Then, together, the two dark haired men took a step into the night._

  


Will shook violently before leaning to the side of the bed, emptying his stomach onto the floor. Jem  -- Brother Zachariah -- and Brother Torias came forward, putting a compress on his head, and set stele to skin. The blue glow of the burning flesh illuminated Jem's face. His hair was almost completely black now, only a few fine strings of silver remained. Will hated that his heart missed something that had given James so much pain; but it felt like a goodbye, every time he saw one fade back to black.

Jem's eyes snapped to his - impossibly wide and dark. He looked shocked. Will was holding a piece of his hair between his thumb and forefinger. He hadn't even realized he had reached out for it, but now that he had he started to memorize the feel. Hair so fine, like wet black ink, smooth and soft to the touch. Jem gasped and pulled away, leaving Will's hand empty in the open air.

_How are you feeling Little Shadowhunter?_

Brother Torias was suddenly in front of him, brown robes obscuring his view of James. Will opened his mouth but instead of words he doubled over, coughing violently. A scarred hand smoothed over his neck and passed him some water. Greedily, he grabbed for it, his throat all but sandpaper, the rough kind Henry kept in the workshop. He swallowed and started again, "My head hurts."

 _Well I should think so, you had a Baylor's poison in you - you are lucky to be alive._ Brother Torias walked along the bed side gathering some materials to clean with and handed them to Jem. _I will go tell Brother Enoch you are awake. I am sure he will want to speak to you,_ again _, about the appropriate use of this City._

When he walked out of the room black eyes locked with blue and did not look away - even as the infirmary door slammed shut.

The sound of the door slamming echoed throughout the chamber. The infirmary was a small room, but somehow it felt even smaller, like it was closing in on the two men who were left. It was just the two of them now, Will and Jem. Tension was thick in the air, neither one of them speaking, not wanting to be the first to break the fragile silence.

Will watched as Jem broke their eye contact, tearing his bronze-speckled eyes away, taking the rag he had been given and starting to clean up the mess of Will’s sick. Jem was always doing that, the whole time he had known him, Will thought. Putting in order whatever Will destroyed. Will allowed himself a small smile at the idea. Brother Zachariah was still stuck doing what Jem had dedicated his life to, helping Will live. And it did not hurt that this involved him physically scrubbing up Will’s mess.

“You are a fool!” Brother Zachariah said gruffly, still looking down at his rag, his voice barely above a whisper. But it was out loud, not in Will’s head. That was something.

Will’s smirk grew, making his head throb slightly, but he did not mind, “I do not know what you are talking about.”

Jem looked up at him sharply. It was Jem, not Brother Zachariah. There was a difference, Will noted, in the way they acted, in the way he _talked_ and in the way he cared about Will. When the other brothers were around, he was Brother Zachariah, keeping his distance more, careful not to touch Will. But when it was just them, sometimes Will was able to close his eyes and not see the black runes under Jem’s eyes, and it felt like nothing had changed.

“I swear,” Jem said, “you are trying to get yourself killed.”

The smile fell from Will’s face, “I would never.”

“This is the third time in as many months you have ended up in the Silent City to be healed,” Jem frowned. “Not small injuries either.”

Will hesitated. What he wanted to say was that this was what happened to Shadowhunters. They fought, they battled and sometimes they got hurt. But he had not always been so careless, he had not always needed the help of the Silent Brothers. Then again, he used to have a parabatai fighting by his side,  protecting him, covering for him.

He would not say this to Jem. Jem would take it personally. And Will did not mean it that way. He was not looking to hurt any feelings, it was just the cold truth.

“Just bad luck,” Will brushed off the idea, not wanting to talk about it.

“I wish you would be more careful.” Jem sounded almost wistful.

The injured man said slowly, “But then, I would not get to see you. Would you not miss me?”

Jem reached out, the action seeming like second nature, happening without thought at all, laying his hand on Will’s. Instinctive, he needed the physical contact with his brother. Jem’s hand was cold, feeling almost scratchy like worn parchment, “I already miss you.”

Will's finger snaked through Jem's and squeezed. He wanted to say something comforting: that he'd always be there for him, no matter what, that they were _Parabatai_ , Silent Brothers be damned; but he could not. He knew, Jem as Brother Zachariah would live far longer than he would and Will's soul prematurely ached for the waiting he would do in the next life.

Sadness overtaking his senses, Will gave into the urge to pull Jem towards him, his hands gasping at the back of Brother Zachariah's robes. "My heart," he whispered "will not die when I am gone, it will wait for yours, as you have always promised me yours would wait for mine." Will pulled back to look into Jem's almond eyes, hands on his shoulders.

"We must both learn a new kind of patience." Jem said, cocking his head to the side, and he smiled - Will felt his soul expand and wondered if Jem could feel it adding to the soft glow of his own.

They were very close now. How had he not noticed? WIll looked down with a keen sense of something like embarrassment. "I've never been good at patience."

Jem was suddenly out of his arms and across the room, having moved silently and swiftly as the Brothers were known to do. Leaving Will sitting on the side of the bed, his elbows on his knees.

 

_Young Herondale, we must have words._

Brother Enoch's voice was like a gong - cold and deep - erasing all other thoughts from his mind.


	4. The Silent City - Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Silent Brothers talk to Will.

The chambers Will followed Brother Enoch into were set up almost like a courtroom. There were a panel of seats on a raised platform with one lone chair facing them from the ground. Already, there were two other Silent Brothers sitting on the higher seats, the third chair empty and waiting for Brother Enoch to join them. The single seat, all by itself, was clearly meant for Will.

Taking the chair, Will felt alone. Jem had disappeared when Brother Enoch had shown up at the infirmary doorway. And really, he was his only friend in the City of Bones. Normally, outside, in the full light of the world, Will lived normally. His heart ached for his parabatai, but Will had other matters to attend to, responsibilities, and a wife. But here in the Silent City, the absence of Jem was keenly felt, more so than ever. He was not just without Jem but also without Brother Zachariah. He was completely abandoned.

Of course, Will knew why this had to be. Their friendship was already unconventional and it did not please the other Silent Brothers. A reminder of that, having Jem by his side, would not help.

In fact, Will was fairly certain that this was the reason he was being called in front of such a council of the Brothers. Surely they did not do this for just any Shadowhunter. Will had not broken any laws, codes or agreements. He had made sure of that. In fact he had done some research to find the exact boundaries of what was and was not allowed.

 _These trips of yours to our city are most irregular, Shadowhunter Herondale._ The voice of one of the Silent Brothers came into mind, like a bolt of electricity.

“Is this not one of your purposes?” Will asked boldly. “To aid Shadowhunters in need?”

 _It is not your place,_ the voice echoed, _To arrive here of your own volition. Entrance into the City of Bones is not a matter taken lightly._

Will did not back down, saying defiantly, “What was I to do? Return to the Institute and have help called? The graveyard was closer. I thought I might save everyone the trip and the time.”

A second voice whipped out harshly, _That was not your decision to make, Shadowhunter._

But the voice of Brother Enoch broke in, _There is some concern, among the Silent Brothers, that your presents here hinders the growth of some of our number. Every time you arrive unannounced, progress is set back months._

“I won’t stop.” Will stood up with the force of his convictions. His eyes were blazing, like sun reflecting off a tropical ocean.

_Even if your being near causes him pain?_

Will's heart pounded, threatening to deafen the chamber, the bone and mortar walls echoing the sound. His chest cavity mirrored in the thousands that built the Silent City. _Causing Jem pain,_ was Will causing Jem pain? He had done so in the past, it was a part of their relationship. Sacrifice, specifically Jem's sacrifice, so Will could have something real and true and _his._

Was Will being selfish, _again?_

 _No._ No, as much pain as it caused Jem - as it caused both of them - it was worse to be apart. James was his right hand and the echo of it can only be withstood for so long. But, maybe there was a compromise...

"How much time?"

 _Clarify._ Brother Enoch's pupil-less gaze narrowed on him.

"How much time until he is done with your training. How much time until I can see him again."

 _We would prefer never._ The Brother Will didn't know stood up and Brother Enoch put a hand on his arm.

_Without any further interference from you? His training should be as complete as his body can withstand in nine months time._

Nine months, he can go nine months without Jem. He can at very least try.

"I will do my best not to need your services until then." The other Silent Brothers didn't seem to approve of his answer, but Brother Enoch nodded.

_Do I have your word on this, young Shandowhunter?_

Will swallowed, unsure, “Yes.”

 _Yes._ It seemed so final, so concrete. Nine months, Will told himself, it’s only nine months.

The Brothers seemed satisfied enough as Brother Enoch walked down the dais to escort Will out of the city. He did not see Jem, or any other Silent Brother, as he followed Enoch through the dark labyrinth.  

It was fitting, he thought as he stepped out into the London night, that no ghosts were around. Perhaps they didn't like his particular brand of loneliness? Nine months wasn’t that far away and he had Tess and the Institute to help run.

Will attempted to shake off his mood, but found it difficult. He turned his back on the entrance to the Silent City and turned left, away from the Institute and towards Central London, where there were Demons to hunt; where black blood and ichor might act as a thimble of Lethian waters, at least for the night.


	5. The Institute - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 18 months later...

In the end, it was far more than nine months before Will saw Jem again, it was thirteen. He tried his best, really he did, for the first few months, at least. Then Will began to think about it less, there was so much activity and life in the Institute. Time passed and Will got distracted, the thoughts of his missing brother relegated unintentionally to the back of his mind. As much as he missed James, he knew that the other man had a different life to lead now, and he did not want to destroy that.

It was a year and a month between when Will left the Silent City and once again was reunited with his parabatai. In that time, Will still got hurt once or twice and needed a Silent Brother. He was a Shadowhunter, after all, and he still fought. But Will played by the rules, letting a Brother be called to attend him, not going to the City of Bone.

It was never Brother Zachariah who was sent to heal him, or any of the other Shadowhunters around Will. Will suspected this was done on purpose, and that was just fine. He could wait.

Tessa had even seen Jem more recently, on the bridge for a few hours, on their day. Will was not jealous, not really. It was their private time, the two people Will loved the most. He would not begrudge them that.

 

Will himself was not even the injured one, when he was finally in the same place as Jem once again. Gabriel had gotten hurt, past the abilities of an Iratze to heal, and Charlotte had sent for a Silent Brother to come and help. Will had not been paying much attention. he knew Gabriel was not in mortal danger, he would get better. Besides, at his bedside, Cecily was already anxious enough for everyone else in the Institute.

Cecily was actually the one who came to find him in the training room, where he was throwing knives at a target to relieve some of the tension built up from returning from a fight with an injured companion.

The knife hit the center of the bale with a soft thud, grouping perfectly with the last three he had thrown. Will had heard the door open, but he paid it no mind. Not until he heard his sister’s voice. “Will,” she said softly.

“How is Gabriel?” Will asked, not bothering to turn and look at her, lightly playing with the next knife, skipping it back and forth between his fingers.

“Come and see for yourself,” Cecily offered.

Will turned and looked at her with an exasperated sigh. “Can you not just tell me?”

Cecily shook her head back and forth firmly, “No, I think you would prefer to put down your silly knives and come downstairs.”

“ _I w_ ould prefer that?” Will wagged an eyebrow at her.

Cecily’s hands went to her hips and she blew out a hard breath, moving a bit of hair out of her eyes. Suddenly, Will thought, she looked an awful lot like their mother. “Yes, William, you would. While the Silent Brother is still here, finishing up his work. So do not dawdle.”

“Go away, Cecily,” William smirked, turning back to the target.

Her voice sounded a little strained, like she was not sure she should be saying it out loud. “Its Brother Zachariah.”

Will’s heart seized and his right arm went numb, dropping the knife with a dull thud.

“James?” It was suddenly there, that pocket of precious air giving hope and life to the parts of Will left drowning. Urgency raged up inside of him, clawing against his skin, moving his bones in an attempt to get to Jem – breath would not come till then.

“Will… Will!” Cecily was suddenly standing in front of him blocking his path. When had he moved across the room? “You can not run to him like a man possessed, he may slay you.” She took a moment to straighten his shirt collar and smile calmly, reveling in her humor.

“Does Tess know?” Some inkling of reason slowly coming back to him.

“She was there when he arrived. Now hurry down and try not to scare anyone.”

 

It took Will a precious three minutes to reach Gabriel’s room without running. He arrived to a small break of laughter from Tessa, as James placed a hand on her rounding stomach - smiling. Tessa nodded at some silent words, unheard by the rest of the room and looked up to meet Will’s eyes.

Tess, his perfect Tessa, beamed at him before looking down, Jem’s eyes snapping suddenly to hers and pulled away to land on his.

The moment stretched on for an age. Black and blue eyes reaching out across time for changes in the other. Will stepped forward, not breaking the gaze.

“You’re here.”

_Charlotte sent for a Silent Brother. I requested the charge._

Will grimaced. Maybe more had changed than he could tell.

“I came to see you.” Jem’s voice said aloud, as if he could hear Will’s thoughts.

“Hey!” Gabriel’s mocking shout broke the tension in the room and, turning back to the bed, Brother Zachariah favored Gabriel with a kind smile. _And to heal you as well, Gabriel, that was our first duty._

Turning back to Will, James’s smile faded, filling Will’s soul with dread.

“We must break words, follow me.” Jem’s voice, he could not believe it had been 13 months since he heard that voice. Will nodded, knots twisting in his gut, as he followed Brother Zachariah out of the room.

James led him down the hallway and into one of the many guest rooms. Dark and thickly curtained like all the rest, it cast both of them in darkness, the runes under Brother Zachariah’s eyes almost indistinct against Jem’s tawny skin. The Institute was cold, the stone doing little to warm the unused chamber, turning Will's skin to gooseflesh.


	6. The Institute - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They Talk.

Jem had never been normal, not that he could remember. He had always been touched in some way, standing out from everyone else. He had hated that as a child, sick and dying and silver. He would have given anything just to have a regular life. At least, until he had met Will. Will made Jem want to be noticed, want to be special in the other boy’s eyes.

Now, as a Silent Brother, Jem was still one of kind. And in a way, it was still because of the damned drug that had for so long run in his veins. He had all the marks he could, taken all the runes the other Brothers allowed, but he was still not one of them, not really.

He was different. Not fully a Silent Brother and yet no longer a Shadowhunter. Part of two groups, one he had lived in and one that had saved him, and yet all alone.

Jem had always thought, even if he was not fully a Silent Brother or a regular Shadowhunter, at least he would always have the people who he loved. Tessa and Will. He could never really be by himself, he figured, if he had them, those who held the majority of his heart.

For a while, when Jem had first gone to the Silent City, that had been the case. Will had managed to come and visit. It had been troubling how good Will was at getting hurt, winding up back in the City of Bones. And then, one day, he had stopped coming. Like a wisp of smoke, disappearing in the air, Will had been gone.

It was not that he was being hidden by the other Silent Brothers, either. Will just was not there. He was not in the Silent City. It was like he had given up on Jem and Jem had no idea why.

“Is something the matter?” Will asked, after a moment of silence.

The two men stood across from each other, less than a foot between them, alone in the room. Jem searched his brother’s face, looking for a clue. Something. Anything. An explanation as to why he had been left alone.

Jem decided he would be blunt, “You never came back.”

“Came back where?” Will asked, his blue eyes widening in confusion. Jem could see he did not understand what was being asked.

“For me,” Jem said, out loud, his voice breaking slightly. With the other Silent Brothers, with other Shadowhunters even, Jem would speak to straight to the mind. But not with Will. He needed the other man to hear his voice, to hear how much he was hurt.

Emotions swirled through Will's sky blue eyes and made Jem's hands itch for his bow string. Love, betrayal, pain, soul-wrenching sadness, and again and again and always love - this is what arias were made for. But he could not, would not hold a violin again, not in this life. He had given much up to protect the people he loved most.

Looking at Will, his soul heaved for answers. For words that would put things right and soothe wounds. A magic salve to erase long lonely hours in the dark and the cold.

Will took a step toward Jem and instinctively Jem stepped back, suddenly feeling exposed and vulnerable.

"I did it for you." Will swallowed, his throat dry and hoarse. "They said..."

"I did not think that anything the Brotherhood could say could keep you from me." Jem's skin no longer felt cold or heat - but he felt magnetized, his skin polarized - and second by second he felt more and more drawn to the other boy. He wanted to be soothed, and James Carstairs would have once easily forgiven William anything, but he was harder now and it was more difficult to heal a wound made in granite than a wound made in flesh. Painful as it was to resist.

"I was hurting you being there. I was setting you back."

Jem shook his head and removed his hood. His hair was now all black, but for a small stripe of grey, one last reminder. "At first, maybe, but... William, I needed _you_."

William reacted to Jem as if he had been slapped. He reeled back physically. His eyes were wide and shining with unshed tears that seemed to threaten to fall at any second. Will’s mouth had fallen open, his lips parted, forming into an O of confusion. Jem did not know what Will had expected him to say, but this was certainly not it.

Silence crackled between the two men like electric static, charging the space. It seemed that any movement, even a harsh breath, might act as a spark and ignite the very air. The words Jem had spoken hung heavily, building up more and more as the seconds passed and not a word was said.

Jem considered saying something, anything, just to break the tension. But he had just bared his soul, told the truth, even though it hurt. He had nothing left to lose, if he had already lost Will. Will, who used to know his whole soul, his whole heart, without Jem having to speak it out loud. In the old days, Will would have said something witty, maybe made up a slightly dirty poem. You could always count on Will for that. And Jem imagined you still could, in any other situation in his day to day life. But not now. Not anymore. Not with Jem.

No, Jem thought, it had to be the other man. He had to react. They could do nothing until he did. To his credit, Will seemed to know this too.

“Jem,” he said, his voice breaking, cracking like a snapped bone.

The name echoed around the cavernous room, swirling around the two men. It was nothing. Just a single word. A name, one of many names, all of which applied to him. But it was also so much more, the start to a promise.

Will took a step toward Jem, closing the small space between them. They were so close now their chests were practically touching. With every breath, every rise and fall, their bodies seemed to inch toward each other. A never-ending sway, drawing them together like magnets unable to resist the pull. Not wanting to.

“I will always come back for you,” Will spoke in a whisper, barely audible.

Jem’s heart was pounding in his chest. From the tension, the fear, the anticipation. “Promise.” He did not inflect his voice, not raising his tone any more than the other man had. It was both a question and a command.

“Nothing, not all the lengths of the earth nor all the times of eternity,” Will expanded, not seeming to hear the other man, “not even the veil of death can keep us apart.”

But this was not what Jem had wanted. He repeated. “Promise.”

Will was looking down, his chin pointed nearly into his chest. As close as the two men were standing to each other, Jem could not see Will’s face. Light from the window cast onto the scene of two brothers. Hair fell into Will’s eyes, over his forehead, casting a shadow over his shielded brow. A portrait of contrasts, black and white extremes on the plane of a face. Nothing but angles and edges, and the picture they created was of a pained man.

“I swear it,” Will said, “by the angel, I swear it.”

That was enough. Relief flooded through Jem and he sagged, just ever so slightly. Because of how close they were, this small movement pushed them that final inch and Jem had fallen against Will. And then they were embracing. 


	7. The Institute - Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They do more than talk.

Jem crumbled against him, like a marionette being loosed from his strings, and without thought Will's arms reached out to catch him. Years of sickness, of looking out for each other, of being present and _there_ had given Will a sixth sense about Jem. Will sighed into the crown of Jem's hair, his cheek against the silky strands, his arms pressing Jem's chest to his own.

Will felt and heard the shuddering broken gasp against his neck and tightened his arms against the smaller boy.

"I thought..." Jem's hands twisted into Will's shirt, pinching the skin underneath. It was a desperate move - as if he could force Will closer to him, as if they didn't already live in each other's hearts.

"You were _wrong._ "

A choked laugh hiccuped against his collarbone. "Obviously, I should never have doubted you."

"Never." Will’s voice was tense and his fingers couldn't stop moving along the planes of Jem's body, attempting to soothe, to prove he was real. Jem settled against him, holding himself still. Will could feel every point in which they touched - but Jem's lips against his clavicle had taken a life of their own, bringing his nerves to attention, waiting.

After several moments of still silence, Jem pulled away. His lips burned a brand into him, marking him.

Jem looked up and Will met his stare - the black eyes from his childhood questioning him. The world felt small as Jem slowly lifted his arm and settled his hand over Will's heart, tracing the scar of the parabatai rune.

Will wondered if Jem could feel his heart through his fingertips.

The two men stood together like that, touching, their bodies as close as possible, neither one willing to move from the strange position they found themselves in. With every breath, Will could feel his heart aching for Jem. They were so close, their faces with so little space between. It would be so easy to just close that gap of air, to give in to what he needed, to what they both needed, the hot pressure of lips against each other.

It was the sound of the door opening that pulled them out of the moment. Both men jumped back, an automatic reaction, not thinking at all. This was not what they were supposed to be doing.

 

Will’s eyes sprang to the doorway to see who it was who had interrupted his reunion with Jem. Tessa. His heart sank. There was his pregnant wife, who he loved, and what had he been doing just seconds before? Had she seen? Would she hate him now?

Quickly he glanced over at Jem to see how the other man was reacting. It was hard to tell, now that Jem was a silent brother. He no longer had the facial expressions Will had relied on for so long. Jem’s face had been so open and honest, not able to hide any emotion, once. But not now. Now he looked like he always did. But he was frowning.

“Tessa,” Will exclaimed, his voice coming out louder than he meant it to.

Tessa looked between the two men calmly and gave a knowing smile, “You have been in here for a while. I came to make sure you were both alright.”

“Fine,” Jem said. Will scowled at how normal he sounded, not embarrassed or worried at all. No hint of the emotion they had been experiencing just seconds before. It was no fair. “We are both fine,” Jem told her, meeting her eyes.

“Right,” Will agreed quickly, “there were just some things we needed to talk about, to clear up.”

Tessa gave them both a pointed look, “I am sure there were.”

Will could feel his face reddening. Tessa knew him so well. Surely she must understand what she had walked in on. And if the look in her eye was anything to go by, she did see there had been gravity in the moment. But she did not seem mad at all. If anything she looked like she thought it was funny.

“I will be out to finish up my work with Gabriel in a moment,” Jem said, clearing his throat, “And then I will be on my way.”

He started to walk toward the door, but Tessa stopped him, putting a hand gently on his arm as he passed her, “You know you are always welcome here, always welcome with us.”

Quickly, Will nodded and agreed with his wife, who was, as ever, much smarter and wiser than he. “Yes. Please. Let us not let another year pass before we meet again.”

“I would never,” Jem said.

Jem's voice sounded heavy. He means it, Will thought, but he couldn't be sure unless he saw his eyes, and Jem would not look at him.

"I must finish..." Tessa stilled Jem again with a smile.

"I'll hold off the adoring throngs and needy patients. Take a few more moments to have a proper goodbye. Who knows when you will have another chance." With a pointed look at Will, Tessa slid the door shut, the swing of the door bringing back the feeling of thinning air and the need to breath.

Jem shook his head and chuckled into his robes. "That woman, we have excellent taste."

"Excellent." Will agreed.

He couldn't take it anymore. The pressure in his chest, the emotions in this room, they were overwhelming - explosive, dangerous, brilliant, terrifying. He needed it to stop. He needed to _breathe_. He had his permission, he had his reasons, what was holding him back?

Jem turned, finally, towards Will. "I will..."

It was as if he had finally been let loose from the bow. The tension in his body broke and Will was advancing on Jem, pushing his back against the wall. His hands sliding through the his hair adding a barrier between Jem's skull and the hard stone wall.

"Will?"

"Tell me, tell me if this is not what you want. It will end here, I will stop, but you have to tell me you don't want this." He technically could not see Jem. He had pressed his forehead to other man's - noses brushing - sharing heated air between them.

In the end, it was Jem. He reached up and took what he wanted. His mouth against Will's felt sacred and sinful, telling Will all the things that the robes and the Brotherhood would forbid. Will could only hold on and give what Jem needed.

Will's eyes stayed closed as Jem pulled away. "Till next time, heart of my heart."

The door closed again and this time all Will could hear was his own calm,  even breathing, filling the dark.


	8. At Death's Door - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jem is injured, Will is desperate to get him home.

Dawn, and the graveyard was ensconced in the hazy pale light of the rising sun. The overgrown grass was dewy and wet as the night broke into morning. But even as the dark of the night dissipated into the reassuring comfort provided by the sunrise, the mood in the cemetery was grim. Of course, the feeling of a graveyard is never particularly bright. Now, however, Will could not help but feel desperate as he lugged an injured Jem through the maze of the tombs and headstones.

The air was chilled and Will shivered despite the warmth emanating from the body over his shoulder. He was growing tired, which was no surprise considering the night he has had. He and Gideon had gone to take out a nest of Raum demons, which was not in it of itself that unusual, and there promised to be something of a fight. But since James had been born, Tessa was more concerned when he went out to battle, worried he would not come back at all. She had asked Brother Zachariah to accompany them, to be safe, just in case the worst should happen.

The worst had happened, but not to Will or Gideon. Amid the fighting, a spare flailing tentacle had struck out and hit Jem squarely in the chest. The sucker had done its job, piercing the flesh and shooting sharp needles of poison into his body.

Will and Gideon managed to kill all the beasts, there were none left in that nest. Will had made sure they paid, but quickly, because Jem was hurt and Will could not help him.

After, Gideon had gone back to the Institute to report what had happened, and perhaps bring help if Will needed it. And Will had taken Jem, to bring him to the Silent City, the only place where a Silent Brother might be healed.

Still covered in ichor and black blood of the Raum demons, Will was sure he was quite the sight to be seen. He had not come out of the fight unscathed. He was bleeding from a cut on his forehead, the blood falling onto the collar of his gear, making it glisten and slick.

What Will had not counted on was just how hard it might be to carry a grown man without any help at all. Jem was growing heavy in Will’s arms, he needed a brief respite, he needed a break. Each step felt like there were rocks weighing down his shoes and a boulder on his back. It was a struggle. Will knew Jem did not have much time to spare, but he did not think he could make it further.  

Panting, Will stopped next to a marble mausoleum, gently letting his friend slide off his back. Will sat Jem up, resting against the cool stone, getting his breath back to normal.  

“We are almost at the gates of the city,” Will told Jem, trying to sound hopeful.

Jem had been falling in and out of consciousness throughout their journey, but he was awake now. Barely there, but awake, his eyes unfocused and misty instead of piercing black. He blinked up at Will, not fully comprehending. “Oh? Good?”

Futilely, Will ran a hand through his hair, thinking about what to do next. Leaving Jem alone was not ideal. Will had so often promised not to abandon Jem that it seemed impossible to consider. But aid would arrive quicker if Will ran to the City of Bones alone and brought back a Silent Brother with him. Picking Jem back up was not appealing, he was sore just thinking about it.

Will looked at Jem. He was so pale, all color had been drained from his skin, the black runes under his eyes were grotesquely dark and vibrant. Will had gotten used to them over the last two years and while he still saw Jem as his silver-haired parabatai, _this_ Jem had become precious to him too.

"Jem, I'll be back. Okay? No dying on me now, Silent Brothers are supposed to be hard to kill. I'm depending on you to remember that." Will's feet quickly turned, kicking up grave rot and grass in his haste. A sudden grasp of his right hand, firm, but weak, almost toppled him over. He turned to see one of Jem's eyes open.

"Remember what? Where are you going?" Jem's forehead creased in confusion. The blood loss, Will thought, his memory must be affected by the blood loss.

"To the Silent City." Will said quickly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

"No," Panic welled up inside Jem, his eyes huge and demanding, "No! Will please, don't - “ Jem hiccuped then and slumped against the mausoleum wall, exhausted. A bright red swish of blood trailed after him on the marble. "Don't leave me. You won't be alone anymore, I won't let you ..." Then, Jem's eyes closed.

Will's heart seized and he reached out to feel Jem's skin. It was still warm, there was still a pulse. "Jem... Jem, I won't, I promise. Hey, remember this one?" Will said, his voice cracking, shaking Jem to keep him up. "There once was a fellow O'Doole,/Who found little red spots on his tool,/His Doctor a cynic..." Jem's head lolled to the side and Will reached out to steady him. Cupping his face with his hands. "Jem! Please, I need to get to the City, you need help."

Jem's lips, the color of strawberry chocolates, smiled softly, his voice barely a whisper, "Why? Am I finally dying?" Jem's eyes opened and he straightened his neck best he could, though he still leaned to the left. Will reached out to touch Jem's shoulder, but couldn't, didn't know what to say.  "I know. I'll leave you first, I know, but please Will, it's dark there - remember, the bones, they were smiling."

Will choked back a sob, _James, his James, this was his James_! Will touched Jem's forehead, it burned and in his fevered mind, Will realized, Jem was still young - sick from the ying-feng, and completely his, his mind having left him somewhere before Tessa, before the clockwork monsters and their horrors. How young, he wasn't sure, but the smiling bones... they must have been ten, if ten, and it had been a dare. A stupid reckless dare, especially for James, who had grown up a Shadowhunter and knew the secrets of the Silent City.

But, they were boys, the graveyard was so close to the Institute and Charlotte couldn't watch them all the time. So, down the stair they descended, their footsteps echoing in the empty dark. They didn't make it very far before they couldn't see even the next step in front of them. It was Jem's idea, to cease their stealth-like attempts and to use his witchlight, illuminating the corridor and the skeleton forever frozen, stuck into the wall behind Jem's head - the soft glowing light bringing the bones to life. Will had never had such a fright. He screamed like a woman, he knew he did, Jem never called him on it - but he knew - and ran the rest of the way up the stairs back to the outside, clutching Jem's hand the entire time.

Will had told Jem then, the skeleton had been smiling.

Neither Jem nor Will had ever told that story to another living soul. Never. And as many times as Will had gone down to the Silent City over the years, he was never able to find that same skeleton. Jem must be hallucinating. Will couldn't leave him here, Jem was too ill to be in his right mind and who knows what Jem would attempt in his absence.

"Then you are coming with me. We'll be brave together." Will leaned over, grasping Jem around the middle and hauling him up over his shoulder, taking the weight onto his back.


	9. At Death's Door - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jem wakes up.

Jem dreams –

 

_Together, the two dark-haired men took a step into the night._

_Wind howls through the trees, whistling as it passes through the branches and leaves. So loud is the sound that all other noise was drowned out. The wind blows Jem’s hair wildly around his head, making it hard to see what is in front of his very face. But that hardly matters. Jem does not need to see what is before him, that is not what drives him forward._

_They walk and walk, for what seems like hours and days and years. Time has no meaning in the deep wood. There is no need to eat or drink or sleep. They do not stop, there is no reason._

_As his hair whips around his eyes, Jem notices it is pure inky black. He feels strong, stronger than he can ever recall being, as if  he had never been ill at all. It is heady, to think that the demon drugs had never run through these veins. Glancing to his right, Dream-Jem sees Will, steadfast as ever, charging forward next to him, just where he always is. Will, too, is not as he should be. The lines on his face are too smooth, his eyes carry no hurt, he seems untouched by the world._

_After what seems like both seconds and centuries, the atmosphere and landscape around the two dream-men starts to change. The forest begins to lighten, the darkness receding slowly, starting to clear. But it does not look like a normal sunrise, how a new day usually begins. The sun is not coming from one horizon, lighting the sky gradually. Instead the whole world seems to be growing less dark, all at once._

_The lantern no longer needed, Jem lowers it, so that there is no longer anything between himself and Will. He can see farther now, deeper into the jumbled and confusing places in front of them. The path is still unclear and the trees thick._

_With the dim light passing through, the forest seems as if it is one large beast. Each tree and branch and leaf is connected and part of one great monstrosity. A giant lattice of shadows that hovers over the men, stalking, waiting for the moment to be right. Even as the air turns brighter, it only deepens the contrast, making the woods more foreboding._

_“Are we nearly at the end?” Will practically yells to be heard over the wind._

_Jem looks around at the trees, which are still dense and everywhere, and considers this change of illumination. Hollering to be audible through the noise he answers, “It is hard to say.”_

_The Will in the dream just nods, taking Jem at his word, not questioning more. But something is clearly still on his mind because after just a moment he asks something else, “Do you regret it?”_

_“Regret what?” Jem is not sure he heard correctly._

_“Coming back to help me?” Will clarifies._

_Around them, the trees are shaking and quivering in their places, everything is moving and nothing is safe. The dark shadows threaten to consume everything around them. But Jem is only looking at the man next to him,  “I promised,” Jem reminds him._

_But Will is giving him a strange expression. As if trying to make sense, he repeats, “I promised.”_

 

Jem opened his eyes to the dull black and darkness of his cavern rooms. Instinctively, he raised his hand, but found no lantern there. Jem shivered. His arms ached, he felt as if he had been running for miles and miles only to have collapsed back to the beginning of the day.

Jem breathed in the dry cold of the Silent City caverns. Had the whole thing been a dream?

Reaching over to his small bookshelf, he blindly reached for the witchlight lamp perched there. He was the only Brother to have a witchlight in his room, the only brother who needed one, just another thing that made him undoubtedly different. His fingers skimmed the darkness, but nothing was there.

Panic flooded James as he pawed his face, searching for thread and puckered skin. Jem breathed out loudly, the sound echoing dimly against the walls. _Nothing_ , Jem thought, _nothing but skin and eyelash_ , breathing deeply, allowing himself to relax. He must have moved the lamp in the middle of the night and had forgotten to place it back in its proper place.

Jem went to throw off his sheets but could not. Something heavy was weighing them down. Jem, thinking it might be his lost lantern, reached out when the distinctive pale glow of a witchlight assaulted his senses, illuminating the grey-blue eyes of an exhausted Will Herondale.

Will was seated next to the bed, on one of the utilitarian wood and metal chairs that usually stayed by his door. Will looked dirty, his hair matted - how long had he been there?

They stared at each other, Jem feeling caught by the light, unable to move or speak. Jem did not know what to say, even if he could. Will was not allowed into his rooms. He didn't even think that Will knew were the Brother's personal rooms were. He swallowed, reaching with his already outstretched hand to cup the side of his parabatai's face. The movement pulled painfully at his chest - _had he been injured_?

His thumb had only a second to feel the sheet-creased skin before Will turned into his palm, nuzzling it, making a sound that he had never heard from Will. It was almost a cry, but softer, more hopeful, and thankful? Jem shifted along the bed, bringing Will's head to his lap, stroking his hair as Will drew comfort from his presence.

Jem didn't want to disturb the moment, but he had to know. "Are we still dreaming?"

“I think I might be,” Will said softly, his voice barely audible. “Are you really awake? Are you really here with me?”

Jem did not know how to answer a question such as that. How did one know if they were really awake? How could he tell if this was still the same dream he found himself in before, or reality? It seemed an impossible question. So instead he ran the pad of his thumb over Will’s cheekbones, angles rising out of his face, casting shadows onto the planes of his complexion.  They were prominent under Jem’s finger, sharp and pronounced. That meant Will had been losing weight, not eating, as he often did when he got caught up in a problem.

By the third pass of his thumb, Jem had lulled himself into a sort of calm. He answered Will’s second question, because it seemed the most obvious and required the least thought, which was to say: none at all. “I am always here with you.” He murmured what he knew beyond a doubt.

“You had me scared,” Will whispered, turning his face into Jem’s open palm and placing a delicate kiss on the callused lines of Jem’s hand.

Jem focused on the man by the side of his bed, or at least tried to. His eyes were still a bit blurry, full of sleep and the haze that came from waking up from a long slumber. But all Jem wanted to see was Will’s eyes.

And what eyes they were. Looking up at him with what could only be described as care. Care and joy. Unadulterated happiness to be meeting with Jem’s own tired pair. For just a moment, Jem let himself get lost in the deep blue, which hid so much behind them and had such depth, like the seas that shared the same shade. Each fleck of grey rode through, like the foam atop waves, brightening the area and illuminating Will’s face with a sense of danger.

Jem blinked twice, slowly, taking his eyes off of Will's and looking finally at his brother as a whole. He could feel the shock show on his face, seeing what he saw. Will was a mess. His clothing was rumpled and dirty, looking like he had slept in them for days. Will's hair was all askew, pointing wildly in every which direction.

What was worse was that Will was positively covered in blood and ichor. It was in his hair and on his collar and covering his rolled up sleeves. The man looked as if he had been through one hell of a battle. Scarlet flecked nearly every inch of him.

"Are you hurt?" Jem asked, searching Will for a tell-tale injury.

Will's eyes darkened a full shade, the oceans of his orbs now in the midst of a storm. "It's not my blood," Will said carefully.

Jem stared at Will, trying to understand. Surely someone who had lost that much blood had to be on death's doorstep. "Whose is it?" Jem asked

"Yours." Will said just one word.

This made sense. Of course it was his. It did explain a lot. When else did he ever get to wake up with Will by his side but when he was dying? And now that it was happening again, Jem thought he might as well take this very last chance he would ever have. Slowly, he leaned forward, tilted his head in and pressed his lips against Will's own.

He could feel Will inhale sharply, clearly not expecting the action. But Jem did not move himself farther from Will; he did the opposite, increasing the pressure between them. If this was it for him, if this was the end, he would allow himself to be this forward.

For a moment, Will did not respond. But then he softened under Jem, opening his mouth ever so slightly, kissing Jem back.

It was not the most pleasant kiss. Will's mouth tasted stale against his tongue, but it did not matter. None of it mattered as Jem gripped Will's shoulders, pulling him up onto the bed. Jem just wanted Will close, wanted to feel their hearts beating together one last time. If this was to be the end, Jem thought, he deserved this one thing.  

Will did not need the motivation. As if sensing Jem's thoughts, Will's movements, moments ago so careful and gentle, became desperate. He took over the kiss, pressing his advantage, climbing onto the bed, his body imploring Jem's back onto his sheets. Will's lips and tongue teased over Jem's own, claiming his mouth. Every lick, every nip of teeth against his sensitive lips was cruel, drawing out all of Jem's carefully concealed need in the form of gasps, moans, and thrusts.

"Perhaps this is a dream," Will gasped, his hips lining up with Jem's. "I have dreamed of this many times." Jem's eyes locked onto Will's own, a vibrant electric blue in the witchlight, as hard member met hard member between layers of fabric. Jem's eyes closed tight and his gasps turned into to a needy whines as Will moved against him.

Will's lips found the sensitive dip of Jem's throat. "I don't care about the Silent Brothers." Will almost sounded angry to Jem's ears, his words punctuated with bruising bites along his collarbone. "I don't care about the Nephilim or the Law." The sudden sharp pressure of Will's teeth along his clavicle drew out a scream from Jem. One hand grasped for purchase of the sheets and the other tightened his grasp on William's dark curls. Jem felt as if he was in the middle of a storm, though he could not remember the course that brought him here. He only knew that now he would rise to meet it, damn the consequences, and face the aftermath with his brother. James held Will in place as he licked apologetically at the mark, loosening his grip to run his fingers through the twists and turns of William's hair.

Will growled, rising up until their faces were flush together, their lips meeting at the smallest points, sharing breath. "I don't care about mundane values of propriety." Will's lips moved Jem's in a shadow of a kiss. "Jem." Cold air ignited his nerves as Will pulled away to look into Jem's eyes. "I talked to Tess about this, about... I want you to know, I'm not being unfaithful, I would never..."

Jem smiled, tugging gently on Will's hair. "As if I would let you. We talked of it as well, last month, on the bridge..." Will didn't let him finish. He leaned back in plundering Jem's mouth with his own, thrusting against Jem with renewed vigor.

"By the Angel, I love that woman."

Jem chuckled. "I know."

They were like that for a while. Bodies twisting against each other, learning each other in new ways. Fabric giving way to wandering hands, fingers tracing scars along the long planes of their bodies. Will's callused thumb rested at the junction of Jem's belt and abdomen.  His light touch, silently asking for permission, sent waves of fire burning a path through Jem's body.

Will's nose brushed playfully against his own and his hips stilled. "James Carstairs," Will whispered, smiling as if it was the important thing in the world, "Angel knows but, I don't want there to be any doubt in your heart." He licked his lips. Jem wanted to reach out, draw him back into their kiss; or respond in kind, but he knew Will. Will had to say it out loud, as if decades of actions, and trust, and touch weren't clear enough. It was important, to the man, to share. Sharing his love, his heart, Jem knew it to be Will's most precious gift. In the past, he always poured everything he had into Jem, but they still rarely said -  "I love you."


	10. At Death's Door - Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sexy Times are here - so if you don't want explicit M/M action - turn back now.

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Will did not wait for a response. A great sense of calm crashed over him, the words that had been brewing for so long finally out in the open. Sometimes, he thought, actions were not enough. These things needed to be spelled out. And now it had been. And Will was ready to keep moving forward.

Once again Will’s lips were on Jem, and this time, he knew he would not let go, could not let go. The heat of Jem’s body radiated out and covered Will like a familiar blanket, snug and all encompassing. Will needed to be closer. Suddenly, what little clothing remained between the two men became too much.

Will reached between them, taking his hands off of Jem’s firm chest, only for as long as necessary, and pushed at fabric. The robe, which was still on Jem’s body, opened the rest of the way, revealing uncovered flesh. For a moment, just one second, Will allowed himself the pleasure of taking in the full sight of Jem in all of his glory. His skin was golden-pale, practically translucent and covered in the faded white scars of runes long since faded. They inched over him, like a pale lattice of silver thread, delicate in repose yet so powerful when they had been active. He was no longer a warrior now, but he still had a warrior’s body.

Again, Will let his fingers trail slowly over each and every mark. This time, however, his hands did not stop on Jem’s chest and arms. They traveled farther, over his stomach, past his navel. And from the other direction up his thigh, reaching, parts of his parabatai he had never yet explored.

Under his light touch, Will  could feel Jem reacting, feel his body arching up into Will’s hand. Like a puppet on a string, Jem’s body bent and bowed according to his will.

Still, their mouths devoured each other. Will could not get enough of Jem. The taste of him both familiar and totally foreign, smoke and ginger and blood. The metallic taste in his mouth only served to remind Will of all that had happened. He wanted no further reminder of how close Jem had come to death. In one swift motion, he threw off the bottom half of his gear, the last remaining barrier between them.

It was just them now. Jem and Will; just flesh and passion and searing heat.

Will resisted the urge to lower his body to Jem's, to feel their cocks meet, slick with pre-cum, and _move._  He had had his time to study Jem and he wanted to give Jem the same opportunity. Holding steady, leaning over Jem, but keeping distance, caused Will to shake with effort. Muscles bunching and twisting, every cord in his body demanding release.

Will decided to concentrate on other things. His eyes lingered on Jem's face as Jem moved down the bed; Jem's dark eyes were focused, studious, and hungry. He bent his head, licking his lips and leaning in, his skin prickling at Jem's attention. He could feel Jem's exhale on his dark pink head, pre-cum rising to dew at the tip.

Jem's mouth was intoxicating, full and dusty pink, and only millimeters from the place Will wanted it most. Will couldn't stop the desperate moan that escaped him. Looking up to the sky, sending out a silent prayer to the Angel, he was shocked, as he looked down, to see Jem's eyes on him. Black to blue, they always found each other - here or on the battlefield  - always able to read the other - and right now Jem's eyes held a promise.

It was impossible to look away as Jem's tongue, sinfully wet, reached out and pressed his velvety softness to the flushed head of his dick, gathering the pre-cum, before retreating back into Jem's mouth. It was the lewdest, most erotic thing he had ever seen.

"You're incredible."  

Jem smiled, "Your dick is incredible."

Smirking, as he reached between them, WIll grasped a hold of Jem's thick shaft and squeezed, watching as Jem gasped and bucked into his hand.

"So is yours." He gave Jem a few good squeezes and tugs before _finally_ lowering his body to Jem's, gathering their cocks together, holding them in the calloused rough clutch of his hand. The wet sounds of their sliding flesh gave fire to Will's actions. His skin felt both cold and hot, tight in all the right places. He never wanted to leave this moment: Jem's cries in his ear, his lips on Jem's throat.

"Stop." At first Jem's request didn't register over his gasps and moans. He didn’t sound distressed. "Will, please." Sudden and frightening panic flooded Will's brain. Had he hurt Jem? "I'm going to come, please, stop." Will calmed down and breathed in their sweat, resting his head on Jem's shoulder and stilling his hips - though not letting go.

"And that would be something," _breathe_ "that would disappoint you?"

Jem softly kissed his temple and ran his thin violinist fingers up his spine, causing a shiver to run through his body. "Only if you weren't inside me first."

Will's heart skipped a beat, only to return louder and stronger, a thrum, he was sure, Jem could feel in his own chest.

"Jem." Will turned his head, meeting his eyes.

"I want you to, please." Will, straddling Jem's chest, sat up and looked down at his best friend, partner, lover, brother - _parabatai_. Jem's hair, matted with sweat, stuck to his forehead. His cheeks flushed red around the Silent Brother runes. Will leaned down and kissed both precious marks - in thanks for this chance - in forgiveness for the blame he placed in the Brothers for taking Jem away from him.

"I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't." Jem licked his lips and touched his chest, where only hours ago - days now? - there had been a fatal wound. "Use the salve, we'll go slow." Jem reached up and cupped Will's face, his thumbs tracing the sharp lines of his cheek bones.

Will nodded and leaned over the bed to grab the jar, almost empty from his frequent applications to Jem's wound and slid to the end of the bed. He couldn't say he hadn't thought of them before, hadn't dreamed of opening Jem up with his thumb, licking into him. Bundling Zachariah's robes, he lifted Jem's hips carefully, propping him up.

The salve was cold on his fingers, so he took a moment, rubbing them together, to heat them up. Slowly he inserted an index finger, feeling the tight clench of Jem around him. All the breath went out of Jem in that moment and Will froze, one finger still inside, but the gasp turned into a moan and Jem was inching back onto him. Jem's hole was hot and perfect and it made Will groan, with a sort of aching sound, that he imagined Lucifer made upon his fall from grace. Carefully, he added another finger. He stroked slowly and deliberately, pulling his fingers a little bit wider apart each time he moved them. The sounds - as he moved his fingers in and out of Jem's tight pucker - made Will's cock jump. He could come from just this, Will thought. Just this, the feeling of Jem around him, clutching him as if he'd never let go.

"Will!" Jem screamed, more a whimper than a name, as Will's fingers pressed onto something hard and pebble shaped inside Jem.

"Good?"

"Yes," Jem breathed loudly, writhing on Will's fingers, fucking himself onto them. "but, I need you. I'm not..."

"Shhh." Will leaned forward, kissing Jem's stomach, his fingers still stretching. "Shhh...I know, you feel so good Jem. So good, I can't wait to be inside of you." Jem howled as Will pressed again against his prostate. "How do you feel?"

Jem couldn't stop saying his name, it became a mantra as Will continued to stretch him. Will understood, he couldn't get enough of the wet, hot, tight feel of Jem's ass around his fingers. So different from anything he had ever felt before.

Jem whimpered. It was a heartbreakingly needy sound. "Will, by the Angel, please, _please_ fuck me."

Will was as hard as he'd ever been and he didn't need to be told twice. He pulled his fingers out, messy and wet, the salve dripping on Jem's skin, and clutched at his hips, positioning himself just right before sliding in in one smooth long motion.

Jem’s throat pulsed in the witchlight as he swallowed. His almond eyes were bright and dark as Will sheathed himself inside him. _Angel above_ , Jem felt unbelievable. Will could barely breathe, the pressure around his cock was perfect, hot and unyielding. Jem needed to relax - if he didn’t relax the pressure might drive Will insane.

“James,” Will whispered, “you with me?”

“Always,” Jem choked, rising his hips, letting Will’s cock slide in and out of him in a movement that put stars in Will’s eyes and sent a blaze to his balls. He felt rabid, crazed.

Will grabbed Jem’s hips, stilling him. “I want...” He breathed, trying to control himself. Unable to silence the hunger.

“I know,” Jem breathed, placing his hands on top of Will’s, intertwining their fingers. Using his new leverage, Jem rolled his hips up, faster than before. James grunted, slightly changed position and did it again, this time hitting his mark. James writhed under him, a desperate whine escaping his mouth. James’ fingers clenched onto his and reflexively dragged them both down onto the bed, bringing Will deeper inside. Both of them gasped at the feeling of completion. “I know,” Jem tried again, swallowing, his hips making tight circles, “I want, too.”

Any willpower William had broke and he began to thrust in earnest. He was being driven, desperately, by the need to be closer to Jem. The sounds of Jem’s cries, the whispers between thrusts, the tight heat of him was all Will needed. Will was alive and Jem was alive and there was nothing in the world but the two of them. Will was on fire and he knew Jem felt the same. Every touch felt electric, every movement a strike of electricity.

Every bit of Will was covered in Jem. It was all he could think about, all he could see and all he could touch. He could feel Jem’s heartbeat as well as his own, pulsing and quickening, excited and anticipating what was about to happen.

He was inside of Jem and even those parts of him which were not still had Jem on him. Like a

marked tree in the forest, he was covered in Jem’s scent. His blood still caked Will’s hair, still spattered his face, still lined his upper arms. Traces of the injury which had almost taken Jem away from him remained on him, like vicious tattoos, reminders of what had almost been.

Jem was whimpering as every thrust Will gave him was aimed at his prostate, giving him what he needed. Will itched to see Jem come. To see him unravel and shake under him. Will reached between them, wetting his hand in James’ pre-cum, and wrapped his hands around his gorgeous cock. It felt like stretched silk.

“ _Fuck,_ Will!” Jem’s body didn’t know where to go - to buck up into Will’s hand or to follow Will’s rhythm.

Will was lost in it - in every pane of skin, every expanse of flesh. Their flesh finally as close as the one soul they had always been. For so long Jem had been unattainable, something he could only think about and dream about but, not be with. It was even worse since James joined The Brotherhood. He was there and yet not there at all. Still parabatai, but with a cold and broken rune. Neither living nor really dead.

And yet here he was, with Will. Will felt alive, he had rarely felt so alive in his life. Special moments with Tessa, or after a big kill, perhaps. But this, this was different.

Because Jem was here, Jem was flesh and blood and living and breathing. Here. And Will knew, instinctively, that this could be the last chance he would get to have Jem like this, completely and totally. They would see each other, but here and now, this was unique. They both wanted it, they both needed it and there was no telling if a moment like this would ever come again.

“I want to see you come.”  Will’s hand moved over Jem , moving in rhythm with his thrusts.

Jem was beautiful, glowing in the soft light of the witchlight. Sweat-drenched and desperate, eyes clenched, lips between teeth. Will could feel Jem’s balls as they tightened, his hips as they moved in desperate circles, he knew he was close.

“I want to see it,” Will covered Jem with his body, lips worrying over his throat. “Let me feel you.”  Will captured James’s moan with his mouth, his lips and teeth swallowing Jem’s pleads as his seed spilled over Will’s hand. It felt strangely warm and delicate, different from the hot vibrating heat of Jem’s embrace. He sat up, lifting Jem’s hips, emptying himself into Jem with three final thrusts.

Exhausted, Will collapsed onto Jem, softening inside him, resting his head on Jem’s strong chest, Will’s hand over where the parabatai rune used to reside. Jem’s long finger stroked his face and gently turned him to his side. Facing Jem, Will couldn’t imagine loving someone more.

“Ni hen piao liang.”  Jem said softly, his gentle eyes searching his face, running his fingers through the damp hair at the nape of Will’s neck.

Will kissed him gently, lips parting softly and easily, like they had all the time in the world. “You don’t know how beautiful you are.” Jem might not know, but Will’s heart beat with it, soared with it. James Carstairs was beautiful and James Carstairs was his, for at least this moment - he was his.

Jem smiled at him, a light leaping from him, unable to be restrained, warming Will. “I love you too.” 


	11. Epilogue: On Your Gravestone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Will's Funeral.

There was no sun the sky, only large grey clouds floating and lurking. It looked like they were covering the whole world, from edge to edge, and Jem would not have been surprised it that were true. There would be no more sun in his world, so why would the rest of the land be any different. It was not raining, not exactly, but the air was wet and thick, so that everything exposed was covered in beads of moisture. It looked like nature itself was crying.

For his part, Jem could no longer tell if he was. Were those tear stains on his cheeks or just dew? Tracks of water whose origin he no longer knew, nor did he care to find out. He had been crying for so long, feeling so deeply broken, that he was not even sure there were any tears left in him.

William Herondale was dead.

The funeral service was long over, the guests and consolers had paid their respects and trickled off, one by one, until they were all gone. Family and friends had all gathered to say goodbye to Will. His children and grandchildren, his nieces and nephews, had come to the graveyard and spoke of how much they loved Will and would miss him.

Will had lived a long life, a good life, especially for a Shadowhunter. He had reached an old age most only dreamed of, died surrounded by his family and loved ones. Will had gotten what so few did, to live naturally and die the same way. There was no shame in that. And yet, Jem could not help but feel that Will had been stolen from him. His lifetime felt too short, Will gone too soon. Jem himself would live so much longer, but how was that possible with Will gone? How could he exists, how could he survive if Will no longer was in the world with him?

Years and years before, decades even, Jem had become a Silent Brother. He had not done it for himself, despite how it might have looked. He did it for those he loved, for Tessa but mostly for Will. They still needed him. And he them. And now, Will was no more, buried in the ground.

Jem had been there, hidden in the shadows, not ready to participate in the ritual. He had a unique place in Will’s life and somehow it felt right that he would also have a special place in his death.

Now that everyone was gone, even the gravediggers, who had finished piling the dirt over Will’s coffin, shovel by shovel, it was just Jem left. Jem and a freshly closed grave and the stone which marked it. The tombstone was new and fresh and clean, and yet because of the weather it already looked like it belonged, like it had long been part of the surroundings. Like everything else, it was covered in droplets of water, dewy and shining. The little light that was in the cemetery glistened off the gravestone, giving it a strangely unearthly feel.

He knelt on the recently turned dirt, not caring that it was basically mud and his white mourning gown would get filthy. Reaching out a hand, Jem traced the name on the stone, each letter, one by one. He felt the grooves of the engraving, each turn and curve.

The gravestone had been hewn only hours before, or so it seemed. Shadowhunters did not delay in putting their loved ones to rest if it could be helped. So the edges of each letter were still a bit rough, still raw like open wounds, sharp and pointed at the corners, not yet smoothed over with time and weather and wear. So when Jem’s finger followed the hook of the L in Herondale, he hit an unblunted contour.

There was pain. Jem flinched because he had not been expecting it, it had been sudden and surprising. But he did not pull his finger away. Jem kept tracing the letters of his brother’s name, so close to the end, not done with the ritual. Only an E left. And as he ran his digit over the final marker of Will’s life, he noticed he was leaving something behind. Blood. His small injury was bleeding, dropping small scarlet specks onto the gravestone.

The red contrasted strikingly with the gray of the day and of the cemetery. All around was gloomy and dark. Yet there, on the stone, the final two letters, LE, looked bright and lively, bold in their color and in their message. Jem was still alive, still able to bleed, even if Will was not.

How appropriate, he thought, for just a moment, that part of him was now here on this plot, William’s final resting place.

A hand touched his shoulder, soft but not hesitant. The hand of someone who knew their place and knew it to be beside him. Jem turned to see Tessa Herondale – now Tessa Grey. Her black mourning dress was drenched and her brilliant amber eyes were rimmed red. It was so appropriate now, Jem thought, that she be in black and he be in white. Tessa was never a Shadowhunter, never truly accepted (except by Will and himself) and she never accepted it. The black was a message, strong and stark and final – she was leaving.

They looked at each other for a long time. They never needing to say much – what needed saying? They both loved Will, mourned him, loved each other, and simultaneously mourned what could have been. It was a kind of hell that they lived in and it was up to them to live in it.

 _You are leaving, then?_ Brother Zachariah said. The words sounded thick, even in his mind.

“Yes. I don’t know how long.” She was crying. Tess, his Tess, Will’s Tess. She sounded so old and looked so young. Her face was the same face he proposed to, the same face for all these years; he never really understood how much it would hurt her in the end.

_Blackfriars?_

“I’ll be there.” Her voice was suddenly stern, leaving no question. “James, I will always be there for that.”

Jem nodded and watched as the blood dripped from the grave as water welled into the engraving. Tears of blood, being washed away.

“James?” Tessa’s voice was determined and horribly, horribly sad. He stood up and turned to look at her, breaking his silent vigil, her eyes pleading with his.

“Tessa?” He felt the need to say it out loud, it felt important.

She swallowed; it looked painful. Whatever she wanted to say, Jem realized, it was breaking her.

“I need you to promise me something. Promise – “ She took a deep breath and looked at her hands. No, Jem realized suddenly, not at her hands but at her bracelet. The white pearls contrasted strongly with her black lace gloves. She fingered one or two of them, breathing heavily, gathering strength. “I won’t ever see him again. I know he always thought –“

He reached out and put his hand over hers, stilling her fingers from numbering and renumbering the pearls on her wrist. Squeezing her hand softly, in solidarity.

“When I complete my life, and I make that final journey, I will watch him for you.” His hand found a loose tangle of hair and placed it back behind her ear. His heart echoed a different moment, long ago, when he had done that same thing – for a much different reason. He cupped her chin, raising her eyes to his. “And I will let him know how fiercely he was loved.”

She sobbed then and he held her. His embrace was warm, but as he was standing there an awkward cold feeling entered his heart that he knew in time would spread. Will had always held on to the part of him that was Jem, demanded that it not leave him, demanded that he remain present and whole. His parabatai always fiercely wanted from him and it was hard to deny William Herondale anything. Tessa, his immortal Tessa, she understood change differently and while he would always be James to her, he could feel the unique parts that were bound to Will, bound by blood and ichor and brotherhood, bound to him by stolen nights and purposeful injuries – he could feel them like the blood on the gravestone, slowly drip away. Leaving more of the Silent Brother in their wake.

Tessa did not allow herself to cry for long, it was not her way. She was strong, always had been. She looked into his eyes and thanked him, kissed the top of her husband’s grave and left – not looking back. By then, his blood had been washed away by the rain and become a part of the water-drenched earth.

Jem did not move for hours; he was there long after the rain had stopped and the moon rose as a mocking light in the sky. It was Brother Enoch whom they sent. His gentle voice and steady hands led him back to the Silent City, Jem’s face still wet as he descended the stairs.

 


	12. Epilogue II: By the Bank of the River

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jem and Will find each other, again.

Calm. Complete and utter calm. There was no sound but the slow trickle of running water, a pleasant white noise in the background, barely loud enough to hear if you did not listen. A light wind brushed his face, cool and refreshing. Jem let his eyes remained closed for just a moment longer, relishing in the feel of it. Practically bliss.

Moments before, or so it seemed to him, he had been an old man, a tired man, who had lived what felt like three different lifetimes. He had been a boy in China and then London, a Silent Brother in the City of Bones, and an adult a hundred years later. Three lives. Spanning close to two centuries. And as much as he had loved it, he had also felt it in his very bones. Jem had been old, he had felt elderly and worn and every bit his real age. But not now. The creaks in his joints which had been painful and kept him from sleeping for years were gone. All his aches and his pains, which had rattled in his very bones, cleared for the first time in recent memory.

Memory. His mind. His mind was wide open and fresh. He could remember every moment of his life, from when he had been a small child in China all the way to sitting in his rocking chair on the porch of the house he had grown old in just the day before.

His life was open before him. The daze that came with his aging mind was gone. He felt young again, healthy and strong. He felt restored to just as he had been after he ceased being a Silent Brother, free of poison and runes which marked him as different. He flexed his arms and legs just slightly, enjoying the feel of being limber and able. Jem took a deep breath and opened his eyes.

He was in a cave, a tunnel of sorts, narrow and winding. The walls were rough and natural around him, rock which had been opened up so that there was a way through. Light shown in from an opening not too far away, around another bend or two. And in his hand was a lantern, an old one, as he might have used in the Institute in London, emitting a faint glow. In front of him, there was a path clearly evident. It was well trodden, the ground worn and clear. Jem turned and glanced behind himself curiously, but it was dark and foreboding, the space smaller and unwelcoming. Clearly he was meant to go forward.

Every inch of him felt it, the need to go ahead. He was supposed to leave the rock and move onward. That was where he belonged. Something was waiting for him, something good. Peace, maybe.

Boldly he began to move, no hesitation in his steps, no fear or worry. Nothing he would hurt him, he was safe, he was not sure how he knew it but he was certain. After just a few seconds, the scenery around him shifted. He reached the mouth of the rock, the end of the tunnel. Stretched out in front of him was a wide expanse, open and clear.

The first thing Jem noticed was that there was no sun in the sky. It was light out, but not bright, sort of a pleasant cool grey. Jem did not know where the light could have been coming from. Everything looked sharp and clear.

It was a flat plane, no trees or houses in sight. As far as the eye could see was just land, green and lush, the grass gently swaying in the soft breeze. Through the land was one anomaly, a river, huge and flowing. It seemed to be more than a mile in width, and in length it started and ended at either end of the horizon. There could be no circumnavigating it. That must have been the water he had heard before. But now the rush was louder, more prominent.

Standing at the bank of the river was a figure, a man. In the pale light, Jem could not make out his face, but he could tell the man was relaxed. He stood with his hands in his pockets, his head tipped to the side in the confident manner and the slow slouch of someone who knew he got what he wanted. Black hair flew around his head wildly.

Jem set down the lantern in his hand, as he no longer needed it, and took a step forward, out of the opening to the cavern, and toward the river. Without the shadow behind him, now surrounded by the light, everything became even clearer. The piercing blue eyes of the man at the edge of the water bore into him, knowing and familiar in a way that neither time nor distance could ever take away. And suddenly Jem knew where he was. He knew what had happened. And he knew who the man waiting for him was. 

Resisting the urge to run forward, Jem sauntered down to the side of the rushing river. Will took a few steps forward to meet him, grinning. Without a single word, the two men threw their arms around each other.

Jem pulled back and looked at his brother, his hands on his shoulders, not willing to lose contact altogether after so long a parting. Much like Jem felt, Will looked young and spry, far different from the age when he had died. Every angle of his face, every twinkle of his eyes were familiar, and looking at Will felt like coming home.

“You came back to me!” Will said, sounding joyous.

“Just like I promised,” Jem smiled back, dropping his hands.

Will nodded, not taking his eyes off of Jem and said in a sincere voice, “I have missed you”

This seemed odd to Jem, “You didn’t have to. You have been with me the whole time.” Jem looked out at the water, over Will’s shoulder and a thought occurred to him, “Have you been waiting for me?”

Will gave a small shrug, “It wasn’t waiting, not exactly. I just didn’t want to go on without you, I couldn’t really. But you are here now.” He spoke with such confidence, like it was no matter at all, like it was obviously the only choice he had ever had.

Jem was touched, but it also made perfect sense to him. If their roles had been reversed, he would have done the same. “Shall we go?” he asked, holding out his right hand, palm up.

“Yes,” Will agreed, clasping his hand with the other man’s, gripping it firmly

Together the two men turned to the river, standing side by side, hand in hand, facing forever.


End file.
